


La Douleur Exquise

by myfinalpleasure



Category: Love Never Dies - Lloyd Webber, Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Christine misses Erik, Christine/Erik smut, Erik is self conscious, Erik misses Christine, F/M, I'm terrible at tagging I'm sorry, Raoul/Christine smut, enjoy the fic lol, he doesn't want her anymore at first, poor Raoul doesn't understand, reluctant Erik, sad Christine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 18:23:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11788842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myfinalpleasure/pseuds/myfinalpleasure
Summary: La Douleur Exquise:(n.) The heart wrenching pain of wanting the affection of someone unattainable.-Christine is unhappy, though she knows she shouldn't be. She's due to be married to Raoul and they've moved far from the remains of the Opera Populaire, yet she still hears the voice of the man who watched over her all those years. Raoul is desperate to figure out why Christine mopes around and spends most of her days quiet and hidden away, and the Phantom? He still longs to hear his angel's voice once more.-This is what happened between Phantom of the Opera and Love Never Dies. Even if you don't like LND, you could probably still enjoy this.





	1. Prologue

To live without music is not life at all. Music is life, and he taught me to live. Now I reside in a large manor, the wife to a successful man, but ever so lonely and lifeless, as the music, his music- our music, is gone.   
Gone, as is the Phantom of the Opera, and my will to sing for anyone but him.


	2. L'ange de la Musique n'est Plus

     Christine Daae sat on the bench in front of the window in her library, deep in thought.  
     The cold, gray morning was as glum as she felt, with clouds covering the sun from shining through to the fields her fiancé owned. The long road that led to the mansion was covered with puddles, and the trees on the property were slowly losing their crimson and orange charm as the leaves turned brown and fell off.  
     Christine sighed softly and drew a small music note on the fog of the window.  
     "Christine, my darling," a voice rang through the room, and Christine quickly smudged her drawing and turned to face her fiancé.  
     "Raoul."  
     "Why are you still dressed in your bed robes?" He placed his hat and coat on a chair. "Are you alright?"  
     "Yes, Raoul, I'm fine." She stood up, ignoring the pins and needles her feet had from sitting for so long. "You're back early."  
     "The meeting was shorter than I anticipated. Would you like to go out for dinner?"  
     Christine rubbed her arm and looked behind her at the smudge mark on the window. "I..No, thank you. I think I'm going to draw a bath."  
     "I see." Raoul looked hurt for a moment before perking up a little. "Shall I join you?"  
     She was going to ask for privacy, say no, because she wasn't feeling well, but hesitated. Recently things had been dull between them. No singing or light kisses or touches of passion- and Christine knew it was her fault. She rejected Raoul's advances not because she didn't love him, because she did, so dearly, and Raoul had never wronged anyone, but she was frightened. A thought had entered her mind awhile back that somewhere, somehow, he- that man who sang to her and offered a lifetime to her- could hear them, see them together. And Christine wouldn't have Raoul if that was true. It was silly, and she knew that, but the mere idea had ingrained itself into her mind, and how was she supposed to tell her husband? She couldn't.  
     "Of course," she finally responded. "I'll have a maid start the water."  
     Raoul was relieved to hear his wife agreeing to allow him to bathe with her. It was an act of intimacy, and those acts had been rare of recent, and they weren't even married yet.  
Did she think he was he not going to be a fufilling husband? Was there someone else? Perhaps she was ill, or pregnant, and not telling him? He stored the thoughts in the back of his mind as he undressed and wrapped a robe around himself.   
     Christine was already in the bath when he gently knocked on the door and entered. She was leaning back against the wall of the tub, her long tendrils floating and surrounding her shoulders and chest in the water. Her eyes were closed, and her face looked peaceful.  
     He placed his robe on the rack and gently pushed Christine forward to climb into the hot water behind her. She then leaned back again, this time her back resting against his chest.  
     "Little Lotte?" He whispered into her ear, hoping an old nickname would warm her up.  
     "Mm?"  
     "Are you being honest with me about you being alright?"  
     There was a pause. "Of course."  
     "You're not..ill, or something else? There's no..other man?"  
     Christine suddenly rolled onto her side, slightly jabbing her elbow in Raoul's stomach. "No," she frowned, then brought a wet hand up to touch his cheek. "No, Raoul, I am faithful, and I would never keep a sickness from you."  
     She rolled back onto her back and wrapped her fiances's arms around her waist. Did he really think that of her? She bit her lip. "I love you, Raoul."  
     "I love you, too."  
     They stayed silent for awhile, with only the sound of the creaks of their house and the occasional drop of water from the tap. Quietly, awhile later, Raoul began humming a familiar tune, one that Christine recognized instantaneously from the night they stood on the rooftop of the opera house, in each other's arms in the snow. The night that her angel of music, the man she trusted, strung up that lech, Joseph, who operated above the stage.  
     Her fiancé continued humming, and Christine found herself recalling the Phantom singing the same song moments before she exposed him to the world. She shouldn't have done that, she shouldn't have betrayed him like that, when really all he wanted was to be loved. And he tried so hard to be loved, and yet-  
     "Christine?" Raoul sat up a bit suddenly. "Christine, you're crying."


	3. L'acte de Gentillesse pour une Excellente Récompense

The catacombs' ceilings dripped with rain from above, and the ground below was filled with dirty water, and Madame Giry wrinkled her nose in slight disgust as she began her walk. She carried a bag with her, filled with food and clothing, and some other simple necessities.   
Every fibre of her being told her to turn back, to forget the vast amounts of money offered, to leave this life of pity and selflessness behind, but how could she? She was in too deep now, there was no turning back.   
The corridor along which she walked was dark, and there was the faint screeching of rats that frightened her, because she could not see them, and suddenly something touched her, causing her to cry out.   
"Madame," his voice was recognizable purely by the sadness that lurked behind it.   
"Monsieur, forgive me," she clutched her chest. "You scared me."   
"No, forgive me." He struck a match, lighting a candle holder. "The candles are not lit to avoid detection."   
"Of course." Giry looked at the broken man before her. He had fashioned a cloth around his head, with holes for his eyes. Of course, she could see part of his deformity poking out beneath, near the corner of his mouth. His wig was long gone, and the part of his hair that remained was unruly.   
"Come." The Phantom gestured for her to follow him, and in silence they went through a maze of halls and corridors, each becoming more disgusting and dark than the last, until finally they reached an opening.   
There was a small area that had been fashioned into a bed, and a board of wood was on top of a rock to be a tabletop, and a few papers were scattered across it. It was sad, in a way, but after his last lair had to be abandoned, he made do with what little he had.  
"Madame," he turned around, ever so desperate. "Did you bring what I asked for?"   
"Yes," she reached into her bag, and pulled out the white mask that the phantom, the so called angel, had hid behind for so long. Giry held it out, as an offering. "Here. Meg found it in your..lair, Monsieur."   
He gently took it from her, then ran his fingers over the surface of the thing.   
"I brought more things," she said, walking past him to set her bag on his makeshift desk. "You're ridiculous to think you will last here any longer without proper nourishment or warmth."   
The Phantom turned around, still holding the mask in his hand, and watched her curiously. He turned slightly red at her scolding, but hesitated to retort anything back.   
"Food," she placed cans and bags of dried food on the wood, "is essential. Fool. And I have brought you clothing." She pulled out a pile of dark clothes. "Suited for your style, Monsieur. I believe you prefer to blend into your dark confines."   
"You will be reimbursed."   
"There is no need." Giry pulled out a few other things, such as soaps and toothbrushes, and then finally, a small, black wig. "My offer still stands," she turned to face him. "You may come and live with Meg and me."   
"No," he replied quickly. "The danger is too great. If I was to be found by the police, or worse - her...no."   
"Christine will never know I am helping you. Never. Do you under-"  
"I have no intention of attempting to see her, Madame Giry. Do not speak of her again." He paused. "Please."   
"As you wish, my Master." 

•••

Raoul put down the letter he was reading and smiled. "My darling, I have wonderful news."   
"What is it?" Christine looked up from her cross-stitch as her fiancé kneeled beside her chair.  
"The money from the Populaire was finally reimbursed, and they are ready for me to sign to papers to have the money transferred to my account. My part, anyhow."   
"That is excellent news," she smiled, and gently kneeled forward to kiss him. "So what does this mean for us?"   
"Well, you may have noticed I have put our wedding on hold until I knew for sure we would have enough money for the grand celebration you deserve," Raoul pushed some curls behind Christine's ear and caressed her cheek. "We can finally begin planning the wedding."   
"Oh, Raoul," Christine hugged him, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes.   
"We can celebrate when I get back," he pulled away from her. "I want to get to the office as soon as possible to sign the papers. And I won't be gone long, I promise." He kissed her forehead, then left the room quickly, calling for the butler to gather his coat.   
Christine watched the carriage leave out the window of the study, then she sighed, and put down her sewing.   
If it was true, they finally could begin the wedding plans, she would be married within a month. Married. And she loved Raoul- oh, how she loved him- but with her recent thoughts of the man she left behind, it made her doubt her want to be married.   
She needed a second opinion, and she decided she would go see her dear friend Meg, and her teacher, Madame Giry, the next day, perhaps while Raoul was out.   
A few hours later, Christine was in the music room, scanning old music books that belonged to her father when her fiancé stepped in, shaking rainwater off his hat.   
"It is done!" He exclaimed merrily, then pulled off his coat and came to Christine's side. "What's this?"   
"My father used to compose music and write it in these books." She touched the frayed pages gently. "It still smells like his study."   
"He would be very proud of where you are now," Raoul took the book from her hands and placed it back on the shelf. "Did you hear, Little Lotte? The money was transferred, we can now have the wedding."   
"You make it sound as if we were poor before." Christine laughed.   
"We will never be poor," Raoul took her hands in his, "but I wanted to hold a party for us like no other, with lights and music-" he kissed her gently, then pulled back and smiled. "Are you excited?"   
"Very," she looked at their intertwined hands. "May I go to see the Madame and Meg tomorrow?"   
"But of course, tell them the good news! I'll arrange the carriage for you. And for now," he pulled her in close and placed his lips against her jaw, then her neck, "come to bed with me. Please?"   
The question surprised her slightly. "Raoul, we aren't married yet," she blushed deeply.   
"You didn't protest the other times." He teased as his hands ran down the boning of her corset.   
"During the other times, we had no wedding in sight. Now we do." She spoke softly.  
Raoul pulled away, some strands of hair falling in his face. "Please, Christine, I long for you."   
Slowly, she nodded, and Raoul smiled and stepped back. "Good, good. Undress, and come to my room"   
He disappeared after planting a kiss on her forehead, and Christine sighed deeply, then retreated to her room, where a maid helped her out of her dress and into a nightgown. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind as she tied her silk robe around her body. Obviously, they had bed together before, even though they hadn't married yet, but now she felt a sick feeling in her stomach as she approached the door of his room. This didn't feel right, thinking of another man, and agreeing to have her fiancé take her still. And yet, it felt like her duty, as a young woman, to please her man and succumb to his needs, not her own. She was to be faithful, obedient, and ever graceful in her love for Raoul.   
How confused and horribly torn apart she was.  
Her knuckles gently tapped on the wood, and she opened the door slowly, finding Raoul standing wearing his robe, and he offered his hand to her. She took it, and closed the door behind her.   
"Oh, my darling," Raoul breathed into her collar bone as her brought her close to him, his long hair tickling her as it touched her skin. He unwrapped the robe from around her, and even though he had seen her in the nude, she still felt self conscious as she knew her gown beneath the robe was sheer.  
They moved to the bed, where Raoul guided his fiancé to lie down beneath him as he kissed her deeply.   
Christine avoided eye contact as he pulled his clothes from his own body, not wanting him to see her blushing. But, she couldn't help but see the way his body moved swiftly and gently to remove his night clothing and bring his hands up to meet her waist.   
"Christine," he breathed heavily.   
"Here," she reached behind her and moved her hair behind her head, to avoid being caught in his hands, then shyly began pulling her dress up her legs.   
Raoul desperately grasped at the hem to pull it up further and spread his lover's legs, then smiled sweetly as he kissed along her calves and thighs. Christine giggled as his lips tickled her skin and placed her fingers in his golden locks.   
Raoul moved himself up and positioned himself over her, with his hands on either side of her head. He brought one hand down to where she didn't dare to look, she had no business looking at him there, and suddenly she could feel him, pressing against her but waiting to push in any further.   
Out of instinct, Christine tensed, but then smiled sweetly, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She grasped her fiancé's shoulders and whispered into his ear. "Okay," she inhaled sharply as he didn't hesitate to coax himself into her almost painfully.   
She winced, and he apologized, slowing himself down a bit, then started a steady pace.   
Christine's quiet moans urged Raoul on, and he ran his hands up and down her body, feeling her breasts and sides through the thin fabric of her gown. He moved quicker, and Christine felt warmth in her abdomen, and she felt the urge to help Raoul finish herself off by bringing her hand down, but she kept her hands plastered to his back, because she would not do a shameful thing like that, especially in front of him.   
"Raoul," she gasped, and suddenly he trembled and pulled himself out and away from her. Christine watched his face contort as he let out a groan, then he collapsed bedside her, chuckling quietly. She had to resist to urge to complain that she wasn't done yet, but she knew better, and this wasn't the first time she had been left unsatisfied.   
"That was wonderful," Raoul whispered in his fiancé's ear, then planted a kiss on her cheek. "Goodnight."   
As he rolled over, she pulled down her gown and tucked herself into the pillow, facing away from him.   
"Goodnight, Raoul." She whispered before blowing out the candle on the bedside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raoul is a sweetie but he's still a guy.


End file.
